Revolutionized
by CateCassidy
Summary: When Abby was rescued from a life as a Seven, she never imagined that she would become a brilliant rebel with a mission: become one of the Selected, win Prince Justin's heart and bring down the Royal Family. Based on the story of Abby Tamblin mentioned in The Elite.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi! In **_**The Elite**_** Kiera Cass mentioned a queen named Abby. We didn't learn very much information about her so I was curious as to what her story was. This is my take on it, as well as being my first fan fiction, so I would really appreciate feedback. I hope you like it!**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own the Selection Trilogy or its characters. The amazing Kiera Cass owns it all.**

* * *

**Chapter 1**

The rebel camp is only a few miles out of Angeles, and from my spot on the bluff, I can clearly see the Illéan palace. I shiver, not from the cold breeze, but from knowing that in a few short hours, I will be climbing over the high walls that protect the royal family from the rest of the world.

"Morning, Abby, I knew I would find you here."

I turn to face Ryan as she comes to sit beside me. "What are you doing here?" I ask my former instructor.

She shrugs, "The view's nice. And I came to give you this." She hands me a small backpack.

I take it and unzip the biggest pocket first. Bottles of rubbing alcohol, gauze, tweezers and antiseptic ointment are neatly packed inside.

"Wow." I say, "Does everyone get this?"

"Yes and they're going to need it. This year's initiates are some of the stupidest I've ever seen." She gives me a sideways glance. "Except for you."

My cheeks flush at the compliment and I look down.

"Do you think someone will die today?" I look up from my hands and stare incredulously at Ryan. She seems to expect an answer.

"I don't know. Should someone die?"

Ryan shrugs, seemingly unconcerned with the idea. "Most people think something is seriously wrong if at least one person doesn't die. It's almost a tradition. But mostly things just depend on how talented the initiates are. But if you can't survive initiation, you won't survive as a rebel."

When I first met Ryan, her bluntness had shocked me. She just seemed too delicate and beautiful to say the things that she did.

That was the first lesson I learned as an initiate — appearances are deceiving.

Ryan looks at her watch, "It's almost time. The others are probably waiting for us in the clearing." I nod and grab my pack.

True to Ryan's prediction, the rest of the initiates are standing in the area, where the trees are the thinnest. I stand in the back of the group, as Ryan climbs onto a tree stump at the front.

"Hello initiates!" she trills. "Today is the last day of initiation. As you know, we fight against the king and his twisted ideals for our country. We fight for equality!" We all wave our hands in silent applause. When we are this close to Angeles, we can't afford to be loud.

Ryan smiles, her face shining with excitement. "Initiates, your assignment today is . . ." she pauses dramatically. My hands are shaking and I grab fistfuls of my shirt to keep them steady. "Scouting safe rooms." I hear disappointed sighs in the crowd and judging by the way Ryan's lips harden, she does too. But then her smile reappears. "I know it's not very exciting, but think: how else will we flush the royal rats out?" We acknowledge her words with another round of silent applause.

After Ryan's speech, the initiates follow her as she cuts through the trees. I shift the bag on my back and methodically run my fingertips along the smooth metal of my gun. We quietly move through the trees until we reach a small clearing. The walls of the palace loom and they're higher than I could have imagined.

"Listen up, initiates, in two hours we will meet back here. Disable the guards and don't kill unless it's absolutely necessary. You will be searching for any safe rooms, remember where they are; you'll need to report back afterwards." Ryan looks at us, "Got it?" We nodded in confirmation and she began planning where she's going to send us.

Ryan tells half of the initiates to sneak along the west wall while the other half goes around to the east wall. Her instructions come quickly and I struggle to register them. Before I head off with the west group, Ryan grabs my arm. "Head off by yourself when you get in. Look for the safe room that hides the royals." She whispers quietly in my ear. I manage a weak smile before she releases my arm.

"Do you have any advice?" One of the girls, Myra, gasps anxiously.

"Yeah," Ryan grins as she melts into the trees. "Don't get shot."

* * *

The guards don't realize that there are rebels in the palace until I'm halfway up the grand staircase. Will, Eric and Daisy have disappeared down a hallway, and I stealthily run down a side corridor lined with statues.

I hear the clatter of footsteps on the marble floor, before I see them. I duck behind a carving of a fat man with a crown. A large group of guards sprint past. One is carrying a pale woman in an expensive-looking robe.

I follow the group down a few flights of stairs and I turn the corner, and run into a man guarding a heavy metal door. Before he can do anything but open his mouth in surprise, I neatly dance past his outstretched arms and smack him on the head with the butt of my gun. He crumples to the ground.

Luckily, I don't run into any guards as I jog away from the room, so I don't have to use any of the wacky escape strategies Ryan taught us during initiation. Sliding my way through the ventilation system or jumping out of windows is my thing — _not_.

As I run, I realize what I've discovered: an important safe room. It might even be the royal safe room. Or it might not. But it seems important. No one would put such a heavy door on a room that doesn't matter.

I'm so caught up in my thoughts that I don't notice him until I crash into his chest. We spring apart and he raises an eyebrow as he notices my gun pointed at his head.

"You wouldn't shoot me."

I smile wryly. He knows that isn't true. My finger fits comfortably around the trigger, and my hand doesn't shake. "Never say that to someone holding a loaded gun." I advise, lowering the gun and shooting him in one of his perfectly polished leather shoes. He drops to the floor and howls in pain.

I study him as he writhes in pain on the floor. He has honey blonde hair, warm brown eyes and a square jaw — he looks like summertime. He's obviously someone who comes from money — his navy suit is impeccably tailored, but oddly enough, he's muscular with broad shoulders and strong-looking arms underneath the expensive fabric.

"What do you want?" he pants, "I won't tell you anything."

"I didn't want anything." I reply, "You were in my way."

"Well, I'm out of your way now."

I smirk, "Thanks for sharing, but I was aware of that. Bye, it was fun, but it wasn't really fun." I say as I vault over him.

I don't run into any guards on our way to the clearing where we were supposed to meet Ryan. She's waiting for us with ten other initiates. Will, Eric, Daisy and Myra are missing.

I frown, "Where are the other four?" Ryan shrugs in reply and she grabs my arm and pulls me away from the rest of the group.

"No idea. How did it go?" She asks quietly.

"Good. I followed a group of guards down into a basement. They were carrying a woman. She was pale and she was wearing a fancy robe."

Ryan chews on her lip. "Sounds like a noble. The queen maybe?" She looks at me shrewdly. "Do you remember how you got down to the basement?"

"Yeah. I could draw it if you had a map."

A pair of disheveled boys — Will and Eric — who's carrying an upset-looking Myra —bursts through the trees. "Daisy's dead." Will states flatly. No one says anything, but I'm sure we are thinking the same thing: Daisy has just failed initiation. It's obvious and insensitive, but true.

There are only two ways to fail initiation and dying is one of them.

Ryan nods, "We're not waiting for anyone else. Let's go."

Once we are back at the camp, Ryan grabs a map of the palace and hands me a pencil. "Draw." She instructs.

I carefully trace the path that I followed. I pause. Was it a right or left turn I made? I close my eyes and see the corner of the wall on my left. Left. It was a left turn. I finish marking the map and hand it back to Ryan.

While I was drawing, the initiates lined themselves up with their backs to the palace, every inch of their bodies radiating with relief at surviving initiation. I stand beside Eric. "Rose!" Ryan calls, and I stumble forward. She attaches a small pin to my jacket. It's shaped like a star with many interconnecting lines woven between the five points. It's beautiful.

Her eyes meet mine. "Welcome to the rebels."


	2. Chapter 2

"Are you sure that you want me to come?" I nervously zip and unzip my plain black jacket.

"You've already asked me that. I want you there." Ryan says without turning around, and I fall silent. Why does she want me to come with her? It's a meeting between the three leaders. And I'm just a lowly rebel fresh out of initiation. Although in the past couple raids I've been useful . . . I think.

My thoughts flash back to the boy I shot. Lately he's been on my mind. I feel kind of guilty for shooting him, but then I shake it off it's been four months since he got the bullet through his foot, he's probably not even limping anymore. Besides, a girl has got to do what a girl has to do. But still I wonder if he hates the rebel girl who did it. Somehow it hurts to think of those warm brown eyes glaring at me.

"Did you hear the announcement? The one about the Selection?"

I shake my head, startled out of my thoughts. It doesn't ring a bell.

"It's a competition." The smirk on Ryan's face widens. "Where 35 girls are thrown into the palace, and Prince Justin chooses one to marry. Are you interested?"

"Sure," I say sarcastically, "I'm sure the most eligible bachelor in the country wants to marry a rebel who hasn't showered in a month."

Ryan giggles, "I was wondering when you would notice the smell. I've been meaning to ask, but I know it's not polite." We collapse in laughter as we enter the crumbling brick building that serves as temporary rebel headquarters. The other two rebel leaders, Dap and Devon, give us strange looks.

"What's she doing here?" Dap asks, pointing at me.

"I brought her." Ryan says, "She's part of the plan."

What plan?

"I trust you heard the news." The Ryan that I know — the giggling, friendly one, the girl who could be my best friend is gone. She is replaced with a cold and ruthless rebel leader.

Devon rolls his eyes, "Obviously. It's all everyone's been talking about. What's this plan you're talking about, Ryan?"

"We need people on the inside. Someone who can get the information that we need. Yes, we have guards and maids on our side, but we need a spy who is close to Prince Justin." Ryan glances at me, and I feel my stomach twist.

Oh no.

"I propose that we enter a girl in the Selection."

Dap and Devon stare at her in stunned silence. They obviously think that the idea is crazy.

"Who would we enter?" Devon manages to ask. Ryan grins and jerks her head in my direction, and I wince as three pairs of eyes glance at me.

I slowly try to back out of the room, "No. No, no. I won't do it. I'm a rebel, not a lady, remember?" I can see Ryan open her to protest and I cut her off. "Absolutely not! I won't. I _refuse._"

She moves so quickly that I don't see her grab the front of my jacket, and slam me against the door. Her knuckles dig into the hollow at the base of my throat and I gasp for air.

"You are a rebel and you took the badge." She snarls, jamming her finger into the star on my jacket. The metal pin presses into my chest, and I squirm in pain. "That means you have to sacrifice yourself sometimes!"

I glance desperately at Dap and Devon where they stand quietly. Their unfeeling expressions are identical. I feel a renewed pressure on my windpipe. I close my eyes to escape Ryan's accusing glare.

"Do you remember when we found you? You had no one Abby, and we gave you a home. Is this how you're going to repay us? By refusing to help?" She hisses in my ear.

I chew on the inside of my cheek. Images flash through my mind, and the memories come quickly and cloud my mind — the hunger pains that felt like my stomach was sticking to my backbone. I remember the exhaustion from working long hours as a gardener. And the horrible sickness that left me shivering on the floor of my dirt hut. Until Ryan found me and given me a second chance at life — at a new life. I make my choice, although I hate the whole idea. And most of all, I hate that Ryan manipulated me into it. She brought up memories that I'd rather forget.

"Fine . . . I'll do it."

The pressure on my throat is instantly released, and I drop to the floor clutching my neck. I'm sure I'll be left with bruises.

They wait patiently as I pull myself into a chair. Ryan hands me a pen and pushes the Selection entry form across the table. I can't resist admiring the paper. It's thick and creamy, with a delicate gold border. My shaky handwriting will ruin the royal effect.

"What do I put for my name, my province and my caste?" I ask.

"Your name will be Abigail Tamblin from Clermont. You will be a Three." Ryan answers. "Fill it out."

"A Three?" I gasp, "How can I even pull that off? I'm a natural Seven!"

Ryan looks at me, and I'm surprised at how sad she looks. "I'll help you Abby. Trust me, you'll be ready."

"If they find out, they will kill me."

"Is this what you're scared of?" Dap raises an eyebrow. "Death is a childish fear."

"It's not that." I snap, "Although I would rather not die young." I try to jump out of my chair, but Ryan's hands snake out and keep me in my seat. "Give me the paper." She demands.

"What?"

"You're hands are shaking. I'll write your information down." Her handwriting is beautiful and elegant. In a few minutes she's made me sound like a wonderful candidate for the Selection. According to Ryan, I can speak French, dance and sing, and I was apparently enrolling at the University of Clermont in the fall for a teaching degree. Everything is bogus, well except for the singing part — I don't think I sound that bad.

"Sign here." I take the pen and write my new name, Abigail Tamblin. I resist the urge to write rebel spy in the occupation section.

After all, I can't blow my cover.

* * *

**Thank you to those who reviewed and followed/favourited after Chapter 1, it was great to hear feedback on this story!**

**winterprincess: Thank you for being my first reviewer! **

**sparklysparkle: Wow thanks! I love Divergent, but the last book made me cry — a lot.**


	3. Chapter 3

The line of Clermont girls waiting to submit their applications is extremely long, and my neck itches underneath the lacy collar of my blouse. As I reach to scratch, Ryan's strong fingers catch my wrist, stopping me.

"Don't do that." She hisses, "It isn't ladylike."

"But it's uncomfortable." I whine. The blouse isn't the only problem — the swirly blue skirt makes me feel exposed, and I have to constantly keep myself from rubbing off my makeup.

Ryan has been like this a lot lately. In the past few weeks, I've learned a lot of useless information — like how to dance and curtsy. I want to stop, but Ryan's ignored me. She's also ignored my repeated questions about how she knows all about how to sing and perfectly apply makeup.

The line moves forward, and Ryan anxiously rearranges my dark hair. "Why are you so worried?" I snap, "I'm sure your plan is infallible."

She bites her lip. "This is important, okay? If everything works out, it'll prove to Dap and Devon that I'm a competent leader too."

"How are you so sure that I'll get in?" I ask, "I mean look at these girls. Some of them have way too much makeup on, but some of the other girls are naturally pretty."

"Trust me, I have a plan. And just because some of these girls are Twos and look like they applied their makeup with a paintball gun doesn't mean that they're guaranteed a spot."

"You've been saying 'trust me' a lot, and yet you won't tell me how you know half of this stuff."

She shrugs, "Some things are better left unsaid, and I need to make sure you seem innocent."

"Right, because I'm super innocent. Should I mention that to the guards? Tell them to not worry about any security issues that involve me?"

"Don't be sarcastic." She snaps, "This is serious and if you took actually tried to lift your feet when you dance then you wouldn't trip. And do I need to mention that if you read the French book I gave you, everything would be much easier?"

"Ryan, you're supposed to be posing as my mom, not actually acting like it." I growl at my fake mother. She's been driving me up the wall with her constant nagging. Did she ever learn that people are more inclined to be helpful when they aren't being threatened into it?

"It's true. I'm only trying to help—"

"Don't give me that. Pinning me up against a wall and choking me until I give in, isn't giving help. That's called abuse." I say, glaring across the street at a park. Clermont is beautiful. I think I would love living here if I actually had a choice in the matter.

A tall guy catches my eye. He's hogging an entire park bench, which is earning him a few dirty looks from other pedestrians looking for a place to rest. He looks really familiar — I recognize that shade of honey blonde hair and I think I've seen that square jaw before, but it couldn't be _him_

This guy is wearing jeans and a grey hoodie, instead of an expensive suit. He catches me staring, and he lazily waves in my direction.

I blush furiously, and look away, and gather up my courage to glance at him again. He's left the bench, and he limps slightly when he walks.

"Abby? Have you been listening to anything I've been saying?" Ryan grabs my arm and her fingers tighten painfully around my elbow.

"No." I say absently, and I notice that the line has shortened drastically. "But it's almost my turn."

The bored-looking woman at the front office takes my form. I have to sign in a bunch of places to confirm that everything on my application is true. I try to ignore the fact that every signature is a lie.

I'm shuffled along to get my picture taken. "Smile." Ryan whispers into my ear. "Everything counts."

I smile obediently and the blonde guy haunts my thoughts.

* * *

We walk home in silence and as we walk into "our house" I catch my breath in wonder, again. When Ryan said we would be staying at a safe house in Clermont, I thought that meant we'd be living in a decrepit old shack. I didn't expect to live in a house that clearly belonged to a Three.

Although a thick layer of dust covers the floor, it can't hide the rich quality of the wood — I think it is oak. The walls are painted a pale peach colour and the ceilings are easily 15 feet high.

"You're doing it again."

I look over at Ryan, "What?"

She sighs, "Acting like you've never seen a proper house before, acting like a Seven. When you get picked you can't gape at the pretty staircases and the lovely fireplaces in the palace."

I look at her sharply. "_When_ I get picked? Did you see how many girls were submitting their entry forms? I have, like, a one out of a thousandth chance."

"I have a—"

I slam my hand on the wall, only a few inches from her face. "Don't," I say cutting her off. "Don't say you have a plan and then not tell me. I deserve to know. Why? Because it's my life. What if Justin does choose me? I'll be married to a guy that I don't even like!"

Ryan rubs a hand over her eyes. "Fine." She says quietly, looking around cautiously even though we are alone. "As you know we have maids and guards in the palace that are loyal to us. On the night before the candidates for the Selection are announced on _The Report_, a guard will sneak into the office where the files of the Selected girls are kept, and switch your file with whoever was chosen from Clermont."

"And what if they notice? Or what if the guard is caught?"

She smiles, "I've already thought of that. They won't notice because everyone will be too worried about the rebel attack that will happen that night."

I snort, "Clever, but say they do notice. What happens then?"

"Then someone else gets picked." She says shrugging.

"I don't believe you. What's Plan B?"

"If I told you all of my plans, nothing would work. Be happy with what you've learned." She snaps, and I back off. When Ryan's voice gets cold and hard, it means she's stressed and I know it's a good idea to slowly back out of the room and let her relax. Ryan's not particularly kind when she's stressed out and she doesn't have any qualms about beating up people who tick her off.

"Thank you for telling me." I say, "I'm going to bed. Goodnight."

"No you're not." She calls.

"Why not?" I ask irritably.

"You owe me for telling you my plan. 50 curtsies. Now."

* * *

I take another bite of popcorn and readjust the ice packs on my knees. I never knew that excessive curtsying could be so painful. Of course, Ryan doesn't seem to care. In the past two weeks she's been trying to cram things into my brain in order to prepare me for the Selection and thanks to her efforts, I can barely walk and French phrases frequently insert themselves into my thoughts.

_The Report _is just beginning on the television and my palms begin to sweat and my stomach twists.

"Ryan, it's on!" I yell. She dashes into the room and plops herself down on the couch. I wince when she bumps my knee.

"Ouch! Do you—"

She shushes me and focuses intently on the screen." The famous _Report_ host, Vladimir Fadaye walks onto the stage, closely followed by the Royal Family. King Gerald, Queen Olena and their daughter Princess Katerina take their seats off to the side of the stage, while Prince Justin sits beside Vladimir.

He's handsome. There's no doubt about that. His dark hair is neatly combed and his brilliant green eyes sparkle underneath the stage lights. He looks nervous and a jolt of shock runs through me when I realize I actually feel sorry for him.

I mentally slap myself and the empathetic feelings disappear. _Stop it._ I remind myself, _He probably has everything that he could possibly want. He doesn't need your pity too. Besides, you can't even like him._ And then the insulting voice pipes up in my head, and in French too. _Que sera, sera — what will be, will be._

Sometimes I hate that voice, and it's only gotten more annoying since I've learned a bit of French. It's hard to ignore a voice that can speak in two languages.

"So Your Highness, how do you feel about the Selection? Are you excited?" Vladimir asks and I focus my attention to the television.

Justin laughs uncomfortably, "I suppose I am excited, but it's also kind of nerve-wracking. I mean one of these girls will be my future wife."

"Ah, I know the feeling well." Vladimir replies lightly, "Have you asked your dad about how he got such a lovely wife?" Ryan grunts and I'm surprised to see how pale her skin is, and I'm even more surprised to see how her eyes glitter with tears. Her fists clench and unclench, and she shifts slightly. I quickly turn my attention back to _The Report_.

Justin laughs, "It was my bedtime story growing up."

Vladimir laughs with him, "Well, best of luck Your Highness. I suppose we should move on, and reveal the lovely ladies that will be competing for your heart."

The screen changes and picture of a pretty blonde girl with a beautiful smile fills the screen, and from his box in the top right corner of the television, Justin grins.

"Miss Elena Ivashkov, from Allens, Four." Vladimir calls.

I grab another handful of popcorn and watch as more girls are revealed. Justin looks pleasantly surprised at each new picture.

Suddenly, a picture of a girl with long dark hair and wide grey eyes appears.

It's me.

The popcorn sticks in my throat and I choke. Beside me Ryan whoops.

"Miss Abigail Tamblin, from Clermont, Three." Justin's face breaks out into a wide smile and he look genuinely happy to see my image.

I look over at Ryan and her eyes are no longer filled with tears — they're sparkling excitedly. "I guess we don't need Plan B." She says smugly.

* * *

**Thank you for all of the reviews for the last chapter! Yay! **

**prnamber3909: I hope you enjoyed this update. Thank you for reviewing!**

**Melody: Hmm . . . I'm new to fanfiction so maybe I hit the wrong button. Abby caught my eye in **_**The Elite **_**and I was kind of disappointed that Kiera Cass didn't go into detail about her. Thanks!**

**winterprincess: Well Ryan's definitely an overachiever so she's going to push Abby. Although I don't think Abby's very cooperative! :) Thanks for reviewing!**

**Cute Irish gal: When I saw your review I started squealing like mad. Thanks for all the encouragement!**

**ilona18: Thank you so much! I've recently read Divergent so I'm not surprised that I unconsciously added a few Divergent elements. I hope this chapter answers your question — let's just say Ryan DOES have a Plan B, but it's a lot nastier than her first plan.**


	4. Chapter 4

On the morning before I leave for the palace I sleep in. It's such a relief to have alone time. In the past week our front door has probably been opened a thousand times. Palace officials came constantly. Tailors did too, and they measured me for my new dresses, but the most memorable visit was from Veronica — the head honcho who organizes the Selection. Usually she just calls the Selected from the palace, but due to the fact that we don't own a telephone, she had to come and talk to me about the Selection in person.

Of course as soon as she walked inside our house she politely asked why we didn't have a phone.

Ryan lied and said it was because phones have bad auras. Go figure.

She was nice in that slightly snobby way, but her visit was horribly awkward because of the questions that she had to ask. Apparently, there's an official who usually is in charge of asking embarrassing questions about your purity and whatnot, but Veronica decided to kill two birds with one stone and do both jobs at once.

I shudder at the memory — it felt like my face was going to burn off from embarrassment, so instead I try to focus on making myself pretty for the plane ride to the palace.

I dress in the uniform of the Selected — slim black pants and a white blouse. I'm just tucking a daisy in my hair, when Ryan walks into my room. She holds a delicate silver locket in her outstretched hand.

I raise my eyebrows, "I'm guessing you're not giving me that necklace for sentimental reasons."

"Nope." She says fastening it around my neck. "There's a recorder inside. If you push the hinge, it will turn the recorder on. When you want to turn it off, push on the centre of the locket. Got it?" She presses her thumbnail into the hinge and the locket begins to warm up, vibrating slightly.

I nod and examine the locket. It has a delicate silver chain with a star etched on its oval face. I walk over to my bedside table and pick up my star badge, the designs on the locket and the pin match.

"You probably shouldn't take the badge with you. It's pretty damning evidence if someone finds it."

I turn to Ryan, "I know, but it feels like bad luck to leave it."

She rolls her eyes. "Fine. Just hide it well." I bury it in the bottom of my backpack — underneath the false bottom.

I stand up and turn to face her. "So . . . this is it."

Ryan smiles, "No Abby, this is the only beginning."

"As long as it's not the beginning of the end." I reply wearily.

* * *

Ryan hugs me at the airport. To the casual observer it looks like my mother is tearfully hugging me to say goodbye before I go on a long journey. In reality Ryan is actually whispering last-minute instructions in my ear.

"Remember to act scared when there's a rebel attack . . . don't shoot anyone, even if they make you angry . . . brush your hair and don't complain about the pretty dresses . . . keep looking for safe rooms, but don't get caught . . . don't stare at the king, he hates that . . ."

"Okay I get it." I mutter grumpily.

Ryan grins, "Make me proud Abby." I watch her as she walks away, her strides long and confident.

"Hello? Are you Abigail Tamblin?" I jump and turn to see one of the Selected, Phoebe O'Connor staring nervously at me."

"It's Abby, nice to meet you." I say politely, extending my hand for her to shake — just like Ryan taught me. She takes it and her gentle shake is so unlike Ryan's firm grip that I nearly fall over from the shock. I never knew that someone could be a kind hand-shaker.

"I'm so nervous." She whispers, licking her lips, "I've never flown before."

"Me too." I say.

She looks at me incredulously, "But you seem so calm."

I shrug, my time as a rebel has taught me how to hide my fear. "I'm excited to meet the prince and flying is the only way I'm going to get to the palace to meet him."

"Aren't we all?" asks a new voice. A girl with pale blonde hair and icy blue eyes stands just behind me with her hands on her hips. "Scarlett Simpkins, from Columbia." She says in reply to my questioning look.

I nod finally recognizing the Three. She doesn't offer to shake and neither do I — I don't like the look in her eyes. Is this girl going to be my enemy? Something tells me she will be.

A slim woman in a fitted black suit walks over to us, followed by a dainty brown-haired girl. "Is everyone here?" she asks briskly. Without waiting for an answer she pulls out a clipboard and begins to call out our names.

"Serena Reddekopp?"

"I'm here." The newcomer says quietly.

"Scarlett Simpkins?"

"Yes." She drawls.

"Phoebe O'Connor?"

"Present."

"Abigail Tamblin?"

"Yes I'm here." I reply. She nods and herds us on the plane. I clutch my backpack tightly. I'm more scared than I let Phoebe believe — I've never been on a plane before. Unfortunately Scarlett seems to notice my fear.

"Nervous?" she asks, smiling cruelly.

I roll my eyes, "So nervous that I could puke, but I'll be sure to aim in your general direction." I say sarcastically.

She snarls in response and I notice her edge cautiously away from me. I suppress a smirk. This is going to be so much fun — _not._

I find a seat beside Phoebe, "So what's your story?" I ask, "Why did you enter the Selection?"

"What do you mean 'why did you enter the Selection'? Are you stupid or just a suck-up? 'Cause that's just sad, we all entered the Selection to meet Prince Justin." Scarlett snaps from behind me.

"I was just trying to be polite, something you obviously don't know how to do." I don't turn around. "Can you please stop breathing down my neck?"

I can feel her hovering angrily behind me for a few moments and when I don't react, she gives up and sits back down in her seat.

I sigh and close my eyes, drifting into a fitful nap. I wake up to Phoebe gently shaking my shoulder. I blearily follow her off the plane where I'm blinded by a bright white flash. Cameras.

Scarlett and Serena are already waving gaily at the long line of people, and after I blink the tiredness from my eyes, I follow suit. Our palace official leads us to a sleek black car, and after one last wave, I climb in.

The crowds of people follow us as we drive to the palace and when the walls of the palace come into view, I hear a collective gasp of amazement from the other girls. I force a small smile on my face and look up at the beautiful marble walls and vibrant frescoes. All too soon we have to leave the safety of the car and climb out into the tidy courtyard.

"Abigail Tamblin!" I hear my name and walk towards the two girls who called it. They are both dressed in the simple black uniform of a maid and the blonde-haired girl carries a garment bag over her arm.

"Hello Miss, I'm Jill," says the green-eyed girl, "And this is Mia." She gestures towards the blonde girl.

"It's nice to meet you. Please call me Abby." I have a feeling that I'll be telling people that a lot.

"Of course Miss Abby." Jill says politely. "Please follow me." She leads me into the palace and I try not to stare at the gorgeous paintings that line the far wall. I've seen this part of the palace during rebel attacks and the delicate beauty of the decorations blow me away.

I shake my head with a snarl of disgust. One of those gilded paintings could be sold and the money could feed a family of Sixes for years.

Jill looks at me, concern written across her friendly face, and I realize I must have a very ugly look on my face. I quickly rearrange my features and she seems to relax.

"We are almost at the Women's Room." Jill explains, "No men are allowed in there and we are using it as the makeover room. For now anyways."

"Makeovers?" I ask nervously.

Mia giggles, "Yes and we're going to have so much fun!"

I moan softly and press my thumb into the hinge of my locket, which is hidden beneath my shirt. "You so owe me." I whisper. Hopefully Ryan understands what I mean. If she knew about practically everything to do with the Selection, she must know about the makeovers.

Mia and Jill happily drag me through the doors of the Women's Room and I whimper when I smell hair dye and citrus lotion.

I don't have anytime to react before the stylists attack me.

* * *

**What did you think of this chapter? Love it? Hate it? Let me know I love reading your reviews!**

**Cute Irish gal: Haha you're right I do love your comments! They make my day!**

**winterprincess: Glad you like Ryan and Abby. I guess you'll just have to wait and see!**

**ilona18: Maybe :) . . . thanks for reviewing!**


	5. Chapter 5

I wake up early the next morning and Mia and Jill dress me in a lacy lavender day dress. I wear matching ballet flats because I can barely walk in high heels. They braid part of my hair back — luckily the hairdressers didn't do anything drastic with my hair. It's still long and dark, but they added subtle caramel-coloured highlights and layers to it. My appearance didn't change very much, but they did pluck my eyebrows and slather a bunch of fruity-smelling lotion all over my body.

As I head down the main staircase to the dining hall, I trip on my flimsy shoes and fall. Before my face hits the floor a pair of strong arms catch me. I look up into Prince Justin's green eyes and hastily straighten up while he lets go of my shoulders.

"Sorry!" I smile cheerfully. "I didn't mean to throw myself at you."

"Don't worry I'm used to it" He says wryly.

I laugh, "You don't seem too upset about that Your Highness."

"Please," he grimaces. "Call me Justin. I hate that title. You must be . . ." He squints, studying my face. "Abigail Tamblin."

"Please call me Abby." I groan. "It feels like I've said that to practically every person I've met recently."

"It's a deal." Justin extends his arm towards me. "Shall we go down to breakfast? Maybe we can sneak a few strawberry tarts before Veronica catches us."

"The strawberry tarts are the best then?" I ask, taking his arm as we head down the stairs and into the dining room.

He nods, "They're so good. I bet they'll make you cry."

"I hope not." I exclaim, "It would ruin my makeup and my maids spent a lot of time perfecting my makeup; it would suck if I had to sit through them reapplying it all over again."

"Maybe." He says, handing me a tart, "But you should take your chances." I take a bite and Justin's right, I nearly do cry. The flaky pastry blends with the thick, sweet juice.

"How tarts be this good?" I moan.

He shrugs, "Don't ask me. The chefs won't tell me how they make them so delicious. They'd die before they'd give me the recipe."

"Do you cook?"

"Yes, when I have time. And there's not much of it between passing new laws and dealing with the rebels." There's no trace of arrogance in his voice, it seems to me that he dislikes being a prince. Or maybe I'm only imagining it.

Justin looks down at his watch, "I have to go. I'm technically not supposed to be down here. Can you do me a favor and not mention that we met to anyone? It's kind of not allowed."

I clap a hand to my throat dramatically. "Of course I shall do anything for the kind gentleman who just introduced me to the most wonderful food in existence!"

He smiles and lightly touches me on the shoulder and leaves the room. "See you soon Abby."

I edge over to the strawberry tarts, but just as I'm reaching into the basket Veronica walks in.

"No, no!" she exclaims, "You must wait for the other girls!" I nod and try to look apologetic, but my growling stomach ruins the effect. At that moment Scarlett and four other girls walk in. She smirks at me before sitting at the opposite end of the table. Slowly the rest of the Selected trickle in and I eagerly eye the food. That's one upside of this mission: the food.

Veronica claps her hands to get our attention and the quiet chatter dies away. "Good morning ladies, today is a very special day. Each one of you will be meeting Prince Justin and have and opportunity to converse with him. Please remember to be polite and respectful at all times. It's very important for you to make the right impression—"

Everyone ignores her as the doors to the dining room swing open and Justin and his parents walk in. Heads swivel in the Royal Family's direction.

He smiles and slyly winks at me. I suppress a smirk. "I'm sorry Veronica." His voice is polite and professional, so unlike the playful tone that I heard him use with me. He turns to face the Selected as he sits down at a private front table. His parents and sister sit at another table at the front of the room.

Veronica continues talking, "Before we eat breakfast, each girl will meet with Prince Justin. Please remember what we discussed earlier girls."

"Avery Braun could you please come and sit with me for a few minutes?" Justin calls. A tall redhead walks over to his table. My stomach growls again and I sigh. Why couldn't he have talked to everyone _after_ breakfast?

Justin catches my eye and judging from the look of amusement on his face, I can tell that he knows exactly what I'm thinking.

He doesn't chat with each girl for a very long time, something that I'm grateful for because did I mention that I'm hungry? The exception is Scarlett. They talk for a long time and I watch as he pats her hand and a rosy blush climbs up her cheeks. Odd. Justin doesn't seem like her type.

He calls my name next and as I sit beside him, he hands me a tart wrapped in a napkin. "Eat, you look famished."

"You stole food for me?" I ask, touched by his gesture.

He laughs, "I can't have you fainting. It would be in the news faster than you can say 'bad publicity.'"

"And here I was thinking that you actually cared." I tease. It's easy to talk to him and I'm surprised that we actually have a lot in common. Before I go to sit back down at the other table, Justin catches my hand.

"Hey, since you like food so much, do you want to meet me in the kitchen tomorrow? We can cook." For the first time today, he looks nervous. Is the prince asking me for a date?

"Sure! You know I love to eat." I walk away with a spring in my step. Scarlett glares at me, but I ignore her.

"If the prince asked you to stay behind, please stay in your chairs." Veronica asks after Justin has talked to everyone. Ten girls — including Serena from the plane yesterday — remain seated. I frown wondering what's going on. The rest of the Selected follow Veronica into the Women's Room.

She turns to us, "Congratulations ladies, you have successfully passed the first stage of the Selection!" I gulp; ten girls were home for no obvious reason. I could be next and I shudder to think of what Ryan would do to me if I failed to make it into the Elite.

But she's right, the game has only just begun.

* * *

**I'm excited to finally begin the Selection! What did you guys think of Justin? Let me know! Thank you for your reviews I love reading them! Please read, review and follow :)**

**EileenAbbey: Wow that is a bit of a coincidence, but I can't believe that I messed up on her name! Oops . . .**

**winterprincess: I didn't want to change her appearance too much but she got highlights :) Thanks for pointing that out about Scarlett, I wouldn't want to make her into a Celeste 2.0 or something.**


	6. Chapter 6

There's a streak of flour on the side of Justin's face, his suit jacket is thrown over a nearby chair and his normally pristine shirt is covered in cocoa powder. He dashes around the massive palace kitchen, pulling hot pans of macrons out of the oven while I frost the three-layer black forest cake.

I yelp as Justin dips his finger in the bowl, scooping out a dollop of the icing. I fling the spatula at his head and chunks of buttercream lodge themselves in his hair.

He scowls playfully, "Hey! You're supposed to put the icing on the cake, not in my hair."

I roll my eyes and lick my fingers, "Either place works."

Justin peers into the bowl full of chocolate — or it was full before I got my hands on it. "Where did the chocolate shavings go?"

I blush, "They were good." I mutter, slightly embarrassed.

He only sighs and grabs the knife to make more. I watch as he arranges the cherries and chocolate on the cake. I accept my slice eagerly.

"You're really good at this." I say thickly in between bites.

He shrugs, "It's something I like to do, but it's not like I have much time to do though."

"So if you weren't the Crown Prince of Illéa, you would be a chef?"

Justin stares at his cake, "What's it like to have a normal life?" He asks suddenly.

I narrowly avoid snorting. Me? Normal? My life is miles away from normal.

I shrug, "I'd say normal, but that wouldn't explain anything. It's . . ." I struggle to find a word to describe something I don't know anything about. "Easy, I guess. Boring." I give him a sideways glance, "I wouldn't recommend it."

He gives me a tired smile, "You'd be surprised at how much I long for just that." He closes his eyes. "Easy. Boring. It sounds . . . nice." I can't help but agree with him, silently, of course.

"But you're not boring." He says, his lips quirk at the corners, "And you don't boss me around which is a moot point for you."

"That's not my job." I reply simply. And then I understand his words. "But others do?"

"You have no idea." His tone is frustrated, "Everywhere I turn I am expected to be like my father, make the right decisions and keep those rebels in check. And then when everything seems to be going alright, my cousin turns up and my father obviously listens to—" Justin cuts himself off abruptly. "Sorry. I shouldn't go into that."

He runs his fingers through his hair making it stand on end and smiles apologetically. "I'm talking about myself too much. We should be talking about you."

"Nah, that's okay. I grew up as an only child. It's nice to hear about someone else."

We smile at each other and I feel a connection between us. I can't tell if it's romantic or not, part of me wants it to be, but I stop myself before I can get too far. I won't let it get that far.

_I trust you._ He told me one of his secrets and even though he still remains guarded, it's a step forward in the right direction.

I touch my locket and I can feel the faint warmth and the buzz of electricity. The rebels have heard everything.

* * *

Justin walks me to my room. He smiles and says goodbye before leaving. I feel a pang of guilt, a hot ache that travels through my body. I've barely known Justin for two days and I've already betrayed him.

I'm furious with myself for feeling like this and I press the locket, turning it off. They can't hear me in my moment of weakness.

I walk into the room that is temporarily mine. The walls are an elegant shade of cream, the furniture is immaculately polished and golden daylight enters through the large window. My backpack sits on the bed — I haven't bothered to unpack it and I doubt that I will ever want to — and I begin to dig past the extra change of clothes, the book and underneath the false bottom.

I find the badge and I grab it, turning it round and round in my hand until my fingers have memorized every line and crevice of it.

Loyalty. Courage. Selflessness.

That is what this badge stands for. Not love, nor affection. There is hardly any room for those things in the rebel world.

Yes, it is affection that drives a person to jump in front of a speeding bullet for a comrade. But it is also loyalty and courage and selflessness. Love and affection is acceptable, as long as it's secondary to the traits that matter.

I am a rebel who survives and fights against the odds. I am not the girl who becomes loyal to her enemy. I will not be that girl who turns her back on the people who saved her.

I can't.

"I will harden my heart and not let the guilt sway me. I will complete this mission and be successful. Whatever the cost." I whisper to the badge, moving my lips against the cool metal.

I hide it back in my backpack and try to ignore my trembling hands. Mia and Jill come to help me to get ready for supper and I sit impassively in my chair while they fix my makeup.

When I head to supper, Justin smiles at me and I smile back. Nothing has changed between us, or at least on the surface. We will continue to be friends and perhaps in time we will become something more.

But I will never let the guilt of betraying him cause me to lose sight of my goal.

I'm not that girl.

* * *

**So this was a bit of a filler chapter. Thank you to those who reviewed and followed, it means a lot!**

**ThisIsWheretheNameGoes: Thank you so much! I love your username by the way :)**

**SizzleLily98: Thanks, I'm glad you like it!**

**winterprincess: That's for sure! I guess he is a bit of a flirt!**


	7. Chapter 7

I'm bored, but that's not a surprise. Every Saturday the Selected are required to spend the day in the Women's Room and there's only so much gossip magazines and television can do to dull the boredom. Some of the other girls chat quietly and Phoebe sits on the couch across from me with Avery and Jordan — a Two from Fennley. I flip through a discarded magazine; there's an article on the Selection, but they don't really say anything interesting so I skim over it.

In the past two weeks three girls have been sent home. Rosie Davis and Jules Verne left because they were homesick and Eva Velacourt was sent home for an unknown reason. I barely talked to them so I can't say that I'm sad that they left.

"Excuse me Miss Abby, but I'm supposed to give you this." I look up to see a young maid anxiously hovering over me. She hands me a small folded square of paper and I open it eagerly.

_Dear Abby,_

_Could you please meet me in the side hallway beside the kitchens? I need to talk._

_Justin_

"Is that a note from Prince Justin?" Phoebe asks eagerly. I nod and see Scarlett glaring at me.

We have not been getting along. She's jealous because I've been on three official dates with Justin and she's only been on two.

I don't say anything else and quietly leave the room, but I can feel everyone's eyes boring into my back.

"Maybe he's sending her home." Scarlett's voice is full of hope.

"I doubt it." Phoebe sighs, "He seems to like her. But there's always a chance."

"I know that I wouldn't cry if she left," remarks Avery. "She's competition. _Big _competition."

It's strange how most of the girls are so kind to my face and then they hate me when my back is turned. In a strangely twisted way I prefer Scarlett; at least with her I don't have to worry about her being a frenemy, she's just an enemy.

My low heels click on the marble and before I walk down the staircase, I turn my locket on, ignoring the coil of guilt in my stomach.

I shouldn't feel bad for betraying Justin. He is only a means to an end.

My nose follows the warm aromas of baking bread and cinnamon down the hallway where Justin's already waiting, perching on the thick windowsill. He looks up from his hands when he hears my footsteps and gives me a half-smile.

"Hi." He says.

"Hi back. What's wrong?" I ask anxiously. Is he sending me home? Ryan would kill me if that happened. And I don't want to leave the palace. For the first time in my life I feel safe. _But you're not_ I remind myself. _This is a mission, not a holiday._

He looks embarrassed. "No I just needed to talk"

"And you wanted to talk to me?"

Justin flushes, "I get it . . . it sounds stupid. Never mind."

"Hey." I smile reassuringly, "I'm glad you wanted to talk . . . to me, I mean." I whisper, sitting beside him on the ledge. He takes my hand in his and pulls me so that we sit with our shoulders touching.

Now I'm the one blushing. Unbelievable! I shift my weight so there's a good six inches of space between us.

"It's just I found out that—"

He never finishes because a wailing alarm goes off.

"What's that?" I shout over the noise. But I already know, I've heard that sound — every time I broke into the palace with the rebels.

His face whitens as he drags me away from the window. "Rebels. Come on!" We sprint through the hallway and we're just about to run down a flight of stairs when I hear a piercing scream.

Without thinking I tear my hand away from Justin's grasp and run back the way we came, in the direction that the scream came from.

Princess Katerina is held against the wall, a gun pressed to her temple. Justin skids to stop beside me when he sees his sister.

"Kat." He whispers and my hand finds his trembling one. His touch sends a thrill through me, but I barely notice. My eyes are drawn to the person holding the gun. I inhale sharply.

She smiles, "Hello Your Highness."

* * *

**Hmm . . .I wonder WHO that could be! LOL ;)**

**winterprincess: I'm glad you thought it was adorable. You're totally right about Abby's character — I like your theory!**

**ThisIsWheretheNameGoes: Thanks for the review! It's good to know what you think about Abby, I'm definitely keeping that in mind.**

**SizzleLily98: Thank you, yay! It's great that you like them!**

**Prnamber3909: Yeah . . . maybe, but that would make Ryan in her early thirties and she doesn't seem that old (at least to me). Thanks for reviewing!**


	8. Chapter 8

Katerina whimpers, mascara-laced tears leaving black trails down her cheeks.

"Please," her voice trembles and breaks. "Please let me go."

"And why would I do that?" Ryan purrs, running the edge of the gun along her jaw.

"Let her go." I snap, "She hasn't done anything to you."

Ryan glares at me, but her eyes don't meet mine. They pass over my face like I don't mean anything, like she doesn't know me.

"No, I don't think I will." She says, circling Katerina. "You look like your mother. I wouldn't want to ruin your lovely face now would I? But just for fun, do you want to know how I would kill you?"

"Stop it!" Justin snarls. He lunges at Ryan, but she dances away pulling Katerina with her. "How _dare_ you threaten my sister! She isn't something to toy with. Hurting her won't prove anything except that you're a miserable cow who hurts innocent people!"

"Oh feisty are we?" Ryan smiles, looking half-crazy. Her eyes are wild with excitement and she's practically vibrating with pent-up energy. For the first time since I've met her, I lose sight of the rational, calculating Ryan that I know. This woman has become a crazy lunatic who thrives on the fear of innocents.

And I've had enough. Without thinking, I pull my shoes from my feet. They don't have a very high heel, but they can still do some damage. I balance one of the shoes on the palm of my hand and stand squarely on my bare feet.

I throw it at Ryan's face.

It spins end over end like a knife, and the heel slams into Ryan's nose. She flinches and before she can recover, I leap forward and yank Katerina out of her grasp. We take off running down the hallway and Justin follows. Bullets whizz by us, but they miss — whether by accident or on purpose I don't know.

"This way!" Justin yells pulling me down the hallway on my left. My feet make slapping sounds on the floor and each step stings. I follow him down to the safe room and I notice that's it's the same path that I followed during my initiation test. But instead of feeling proud that I actually discovered a royal safe room, I feel sick.

As we turn the last corner I can almost see my rebel self, dressed in ragged clothing, darting around corners with her gun in her hand. I'm not that girl anymore — I've changed and I'm not sure if it's a good thing.

The guard's eyes widen when he sees us. "Yo –Your Highnesses?" He gasps.

Justin nods. "We need to get in. My sister was attacked by a rebel."

The guard begins entering a passcode on the keypad. The heavy door slides open and we run inside.

As soon as we are inside Katerina collapses and begins to cry. I kneel beside her and hug her shoulders.

"It's okay Katerina." I whisper quietly. I hear someone gasp and I realize that it's because I called the princess by her first name. I don't care.

"You're brave." I say. "And strong. It doesn't feel like it now, not when you've been so close to death, but you will feel better. I promise. I know that you hated that you felt so powerless — trust me when I say that I know how it feels and it will take time to feel better, but you will."

I remember when I felt that helpless, when I was close to death. It was the summer I turned thirteen. My father had died in the winter so I was alone and I had managed for a while. And then during the summer the sweating sickness had swept through Carolina. I'd known that I was going to die. The sickness had ravaged my body; it stole my small curves and drenched me in putrid sweat. It was so horrible that in the end I'd made my peace with death and accepted that I was going to die.

Ryan had found me. She had been kind and she had nursed me back to health. She was the mother that I'd never had, but looking back to earlier today and seeing those crazy eyes in Ryan's face as she pushed a gun into Katerina's temple, makes me realize the Ryan that I once loved is gone.

Queen Olena gently eases her daughter from my grasp and Justin pulls me into a dark corner of the safe room, away from the prying eyes of the other Selected.

He hugs me. "You were so brave." He whispers in my ear. "So incredibly brave." I rest my head on his shoulder and breathe in his scent. He smells like expensive cologne and something else — something warm and comforting, like fresh bread.

I remember why he wanted to see me before the rebel attack. "What did you want to talk about?" I ask.

Justin shrugs, "It's stupid now"

"Tell me." I persist. "It'll take my mind off of things."

"My cousin's coming."

"The one that your father listens to?" I guess.

He grimaces. "Yeah and it's not just that. Porter . . . he's a bit of a flirt. I only think he's coming because there's a bunch of unavailable girls in the palace. Actually I'm surprised that he's coming back here so soon."

"Why?"

He shakes his head. "Not tonight. Not after the attack. Let's just say what happened to him was painful and he couldn't walk for a few months afterward."

I pull away from his hug, but our fingers remain intertwined.

"Abby?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you teach me to throw a shoe like that?"

* * *

**Thank you to ilona18, ThisIsWheretheNameGoes, winterprincess, SizzleLily98 and Guest for reviewing! I loved reading your reviews, like, SO, SO MUCH! They make my day :)**


End file.
